A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder
by Umbradominus19
Summary: Six Years. His Family. Whatever you would call what had taken place of his soul. These things and many more were what Talon had stolen from 18 year old Keaton Spangler. However, when members of a secretly reformed Overwatch bust him out of his prison, Keaton sees an opportunity to do something extraordinary. Talon...no...the world over will remember his new name: The Pale Gentleman
1. Chapter 1

**Please read author's note.**

* * *

It had all happened so suddenly.

 _ **BLAOW**_

 **INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT.**

A young man flinched awake at the maelstrom of sound, sitting bolt upright on his plain twin bed. The room he was in was devoid of much objects, other than a metal door with no handle of any sort, a sink, a mirror, a toilet and a large double-doored closet. Excluding the closet, the room felt more like a prison cell than an actual bedroom.

Though, to be fair, that wasn't far from the truth.

The youth stood up from his place of rest, instinctively looking around the premises for any signs of activity. This wasn't necessary, however, as there were no windows to the corridors outside his room.

He did, however, get multiple glimpses of himself in the mirror across from him. His jet black hair was messy from his former rest, deep grey eyes as well discombobulated due to the sudden awakening. He wore a plain white T-shirt and grey pants.

Suddenly, the metal door split open, revealing a man with short blonde hair and a thin build.

"Keaton!" The man called out in an authoritarian manner.

"Yes, Jamison?" Keaton replied, trying to not let his distaste of the man seep into his words.

"If you couldn't tell already, were being attacked." Jamison said nervously.

 _What a coward._ Keaton thought.

"I could surmise that. What do you want me to do about it?" The youth inquired.

"What do I want you to do about it!? I want you to get suited up and fight with us!" Jamison said angrily before bolting down the hallway outside, leaving Keaton's door open.

Shocked by this statement, Keaton leaned his head out of the doorframe to call to Jamison down the hall.

"It's that serious?" He hollered.

"Of course it is! Overwatch is the one attacking!"

After saying this, the man disappeared down the corner of the hall.

And that's when Keaton's brain began to work into overdrive.

He rushed to the closet in his room and flung it open to reveal its contents:

There was only one outfit in the wardrobe, and it was rather… peculiar, especially for Keaton's day in age. There was a long black woolen coat with a red silken interior, looking like it came straight out of the Victorian era. Inside its folds were a suit-vest complete with tie and black dress pants and shoes. Near the top of the wardrobe was black top hat with a red ribbon wrapped around its base and, possibly the strangest addition to this outfit, a white mask, rounded and blank-faced save for two spherical and shadowy eye holes.

On either side of the outfit, there lay a weapon. On the left hung what appeared to be a British infantry sword, complete with hand guard, and on the right lay a silver magnum revolver in a clear case.

Keaton took a deep breath whilst looking at the suit.

 _Okay Keaton, stay cool. This may be quite possibly the most important moment of your life, but you mustn't forget…_

Keaton smiled wickedly, taking down the white mask before slipping it on.

… _A gentleman always keeps calm._

* * *

"Uagh!"

"Well, that's one!" Tracer called out, spinning one of her pistols.

"That just leaves around five more." Winston muttered.

The two friends were currently situated on opposite sides of a large hangar door, at the present moment opened and spilling out a river of ammo.

"Maybe we should retreat. I didn't know they would be this armed." Winston considered aloud.

"No! We already made it this far, we aren't leaving without that prisoner!" Tracer countered.

"But how are we going to get past here?"

"Ah, Keaton!" Tracer and Winston heard a man over the stream of bullets. Their expressions changed from looks of determination to wide-eyed surprise. "You're here! Quickly, help us dispose of these intru-"

 _ **BANG**_

And then the man spoke no more, with a line of fire disappearing.

"Keaton!? What the hell are you-"

 _ **BANG**_

Similarly, that woman spoke no more, her stream of bullets dying down.

 _ **BANG**_

And another.

 _ **BANG**_

And yet another.

 _ **BANG**_

And another still.

By this point, all lines of fire had been dissipated. Confused and thoroughly shocked, Winston and Tracer looked between each other slowly before inching their way into the opening of the hangar doors. There, in the middle of a crowd of dead Talon soldiers, stood someone who looked as if they walked straight of out a picture from the Victorian era, top hat and all. He appeared to be reloading a revolver of sorts. Catching sight of the gorilla and the time traveler, he turned his masked face towards the two and bowed respectfully, taking his top hat off with a flourish whilst still gripping it in his hand.

"Salutations, my friends. I take it you're from Overwatch?" He asked in polite manner.

Tracer and Winston looked to each other, quite surprised at the display sat before them.

"Yes, we are members of Overwatch." Winston answered. "You must be Keaton Spangler."

Keaton was in the midst of putting his hat on when he froze at the use of his full name. He decided to take his mask off (A gentleman always looks a man in the eye, after all… or this case a gorilla) slowly, revealing a confused looking teenager.

"How did you know my last name?" He questioned.

Tracer and Winston shared another glance with one another, bright smiles encompassing their faces.

"Because we were looking for you, silly!" Tracer said happily.

"You… were?" Keaton asked, his bewilderment more than apparent.

"Yes, we were. We'll explain everything later, but until then you're just going to have to trust us and follow our lead. Come on!" Winston said before dashing off through the hanger doors towards a large ramp leading to an opening of sunlight, with Tracer following closely behind.

Keaton didn't have much time to think things over, as he heard the whistling of bullets past his ears with outcries of "There he is!" and "After him following suit.

The youth began to book it towards to the two heroes ahead of him. Although getting a few graze wounds here and there from stray bullets (They must have been ordered to just wound, not kill. Keaton knew there were members of Talon that could've taken him out easily by now), Keaton was able to make it generally unscathed to the opening of the outside world.

And heavens, was it stunning.

The base appeared to be situated in the mountains, with tall pines surrounding the area and a large lake in the distance. The air was crisp and clean, and the sunlight was warm on Keaton's unnaturally pale skin.

 _Six years… I've been missing this for six years._ Keaton thought, smiling and close to tears.

"This way!"

Keaton craned his head towards Winston's voice, seeing the gorilla and Tracer running towards a nearby launch pad with a small bi-plane on it. He ran towards the aerodynamic vehicle, sounds of incoming Talon cronies getting closer and closer.

Finally making his way next to the plane, Keaton took one last look at the facility behind him.

The place of so much heartache.

Countless sleepless nights.

Where he became someone he isn't proud to be.

"… Farewell." He said with a smirk.

And thus, he boarded the plane, Winston taking up the entire back row and Tracer taking the pilot's seat.

"Alright, loves: Hold on to something!" Tracer yelled.

Suddenly, the plane took off to the sky faster than any other plane he had been on, and they were free in the air.

The next few minutes between the three acquaintances were spent merely catching their breath, before Winston let out a laugh and said to Keaton:

"So, how does freedom taste?"

Keaton was silent for a moment, too distracted by what had just happened to answer properly at first.

Then, he began to smile.

"… Tastes good, my friend."

* * *

 **Good Morrow, People of Fanfiction! I must apologize if this seemed at all rushed or half-assed, I've just had this idea in my head for quite some time now and for the life of me couldn't figure out a decent opener. Then, something came to my head, and I just wanted to get it down and out there to see what you lovely people thought of it.**

 **Now keep in mind, I'm still relatively new to the Overwatch Fandom, so there's a possibility I might get some things wrong in terms of character back-story/personality, so please make sure to call to my attention in the future if that happens.**

 **Regardless, please leave your reviews to tell me what you think/what I can improve!**


	2. Chapter 2

"… So…"

Keaton glanced over to Tracer, still manning the plane. He'd only noticed just now, but the sky bound vehicle was going much faster than a regular bi-plane could usually travel. Tracer appeared as if she wanted to say something, but was too torn to come out with it.

"Something the matter?" Keaton asked politely. He didn't want to seem too stand-offish to his rescuers, after all.

"… I take it you know what happened to your parents?" She asked, her face saddening considerably.

Keaton should have felt something when Tracer said that. A pang of sadness, a wave depression, a tiny prick of grief.

But he didn't. He had spent far too many nights in his prison cell crying about this subject matter that he had become almost completely numb to it entirely.

"… Yes." Keaton answered simply.

"We're so sorry that this all happened to you."

Keaton turned around in his seat to look at Winston, who had just spoken. The gorilla's face was just as sorrowful as Tracer's.

"If we'd have known sooner, we would have come to save you at a more recent time." Winston continued. "The fact of the matter is, though, we only just recently learnt that you were being held prisoner."

Keaton smiled appreciatively at Winston. "Fret not. I'm just glad someone came to my aid at all. It may have taken a while, but hey: better late than never, right?"

"But six years-"The gorilla went on with a pained expression.

"Please try not to guilt yourself over this." Keaton stopped Winston mid speech. "Because, and I hate to admit this, I actually gained some semi-useful skills during those six years."

Winston sighed.

"I take it what you did to those guards earlier is part of your skillset?"

"Precisely." The youth said in mock wickedness.

"Figures. Any chance Talon has to increase their ranks, they'll take it." Winston said with distaste.

"They're like insects: They'll feed off of anything they can get." Tracer added.

"Now if only they were as easy to decimate as an insect." Keaton piled on, fiddling with his currently taken off mask.

The group sat in silence for several minutes, before Tracer noted something slightly interesting.

"Ya know, you're remarkably eloquent for someone who's been holed up underground for more than half a decade. Any chance you can explain that?"

"I can, and there are two major reasons for it."

"Those reasons being."

"For one, education was taken remarkably serious with me while I was under Talon's thumb. They didn't want me to be just strong as an assassin, they wanted me to also be intelligent."

"Really?" Winston questioned.

"Yes. Except whenever I got a question wrong I was given an electric shock, and when I did bad on a test I was forced into a fight with Sancho."

"… Who's Sancho?" Tracer asked, afraid of the answer.

"A very tall, very muscular man who beat me consistently over the course of the first half of my six year imprisonment."

Winston and Tracer winced simultaneously winced at that description.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad." Keaton admitted.

"I imagine it was. But what's reason two?" Winston inquired.

"Reason two is that during the first couple of days when I was kidnapped, Talon injected something they called a "Neuro Booster" into me. They said it would increase my mental capabilities and awareness… and I think they were right."

Upon the utterance of the words "Neuro Booster", Tracer and Winston's face morphed into ones of disgust.

"They drugged you just so they could mold you into what they wanted? When you were, what, 12!?" Tracer exclaimed.

"Technically yes, but I consider it a blessing in disguise."

"Why!?" Questioned Winston, apparently just as angry as Tracer.

"Both of you, please calm down: Rage is unbefitting for you two." The dark haired teenager started calmly. "Firstly, this is Talon we're talking about, you should expect them to do things like this by now. And secondly, I think that drug might've actually helped me survive. They told me if I didn't get certain results within a year, they would kill me. So, if they hadn't given me that drug, I most likely wouldn't have been able to get the results they wanted."

"Hm. I guess you have a point…" Tracer admitted. "… Doesn't mean I still can't be angry about what they did."

"Your anger is well justified." Keaton said. "So, to shift gears here for a minute…" He petered off, slightly hesitant to ask his question. After several seconds, however, he built up enough courage to ask it.

"… What exactly is going to happen to me?"

Tracer and Winston glanced at one another.

They began to smile.

"Well," Winston began. "We'll answer your question with another question: How would you like to become an operative of Overwatch?"

… Silence.

"… You're serious?" Keaton asked in wide-eyed bewilderment.

"Indeed we are. Thanks to an operative of ours who was able to retrieve your documents recently, we know full well of your capabilities, as well as the technology you have on you. After reviewing it several times, we figured you'd seem like just the person who would fit within our ranks-"

"Yes."

Winston looked to Keaton, who currently seemed happier than he ever had in his life.

"Are you sure?" Winston continued. "Keep in mind, things aren't going to be all fun and games-"

"Talon taught me to be nothing but business when I'm on the job." Keaton countered

"-And work is going to be very dangerous-"

"I dealt with life-threatening situations on a near daily basis in my prison." The youth interrupted once more, letting his excitement overrule his usual rule of "A gentleman never interrupts one's speech".

"-Plus, you're going to be fighting alongside a large group of powerful strangers-"

"Actual contact with people who don't instantly hate my guts? Oh my, how worrisome!" Keaton said in mock distress.

"Okay, okay." Winston said, putting his hands up whilst chuckling. "You're without question more than qualified to join us and you're alright with the risks, which goes without saying. But before I let you join, I want to ask you one more question. And make sure you answer carefully, because your answer can decide whether or not I'll let you join…"

Keaton waited on baited breath for the gorilla's question.

"… Why exactly do you want to join Overwatch?"

Keaton was slightly taken aback at how simple the question was, but he couldn't deny the weight that it held. He thought long and hard for several moments, before saying:

"… I have multiple reasons. For one, I wish to punish the evil, not for my own selfish gains, but for the good of others. Secondly, I want to help those who have suffered such as me, and make sure that no one else will be in that kind of pain. Lastly…"

Serendipitously, Keaton's gaze was caught by the view outside his window. They were currently over the ocean, with the sun setting over the western horizon. The water sparkled in a dazzling array of light, and the sky was a deeply inspiring purple-pink. With his head still turned towards his window, Keaton concluded with a knowing smile:

"I wish to do something extraordinary."

Keaton turned back to Winston, his heart pounding for what the beast would say.

Winston looked as if in deep contemplation…

"… Keaton…"

The youth in question nodded slowly.

… Winston began to smile.

"… Welcome to Overwatch."

Keaton in turn began to smile, feeling more relieved and happy then he ever felt before.

"Thank you so much! I promise, I won't let you guys down!"

"I have a feelin' you won't. Welcome aboard!" Tracer said happily. "Oh, looks like we made it."

"Made it where?" Keaton questioned.

"Our base." Winston answered. "Welcome to Gibraltar."

Keaton looked out his window once again to see a monolithic rock with a town beside it.

"So, the base is in town?"

"Actually, it's in the rock itself." Tracer corrected. "We're just landing in town because the base doesn't have a landing strip."

"I see…"

After several more minutes of flying, the group found a secluded air strip near the outskirts of town. Landing safely, the engine of the plane died down, leading Tracer to say:

"Well alright loves, no time for dilly-dallying, let's go!"

And thus, she stepped out of the plane.

Keaton was about to follow suit, when he felt Winston's hand grasp his shoulder. Turning around, Keaton saw the gorilla had an appreciative expression painting his face.

"I just wanted to say thank you, truly. We're needing a lot of help right now, and I know you're going to make things easier for us. I hope we're able to help you do something extraordinary."

Keaton smiled at Winston.

"Something tells me that's going to be pretty easy to do as long as I'm with you guys."

"We can hope. Oh, and before we get to the base, I just wanted to let you know: You can have a code name, if you wish."

Code name? This was starting to feel more and more like a superhero story to Keaton. He gripped his chin with his hand, thinking about what to call himself, when his mask that lay beside him in his seat caught his eye. The smooth surface, the shadowy eyeholes, the pale complexion.

… Pale…

… Ghostly white…

… A white that will strike fear in the hearts of his enemies…

Keaton smiled deviously before placing on his mask and tipping his hat to Winston.

"Call me The Pale Gentleman."

* * *

 **Good Morrow, People of Fanfiction! My apologies if this chapter seemed heavily reliant on exposition dumping, I just wanted to get some information about Keaton's past out of the way so I can build upon it later.**

 **Anyways, please make sure to leave your reviews!**

 **Have a good Day/Evening/Night, you lovely lot!**


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